Closing his eyes, Mordred pictured his magic, a deep shadow constantly changing size and shape, and Ruth's, a small pinpoint of light. As his magic surged forward again, he imagined grabbing it and dragging it back. He winced at the pain and felt sweat bead on his forehead before his magic settled just enough that he could open his eyes again. Panting, he moved to hand Ruth back. "Not easy...need more practice."